He shut off the water and snagged a towel. After he was dry, he pulled on a pair of boxers, jeans, and a blue T-shirt, then wiped at the condensation on the mirror. Anger still tightened the corners of his eyes and pinched at his lips. He ran his fingers through his black hair and backed away from the mirror.
There was only one choice. He had to find a way to get along with Lucien. All these confusing, jagged emotions had to be shoved away, buried so they never again saw the light of day. With time, he’d forget, and maybe he’d be lucky enough to find his soulmate.
With a weary sigh, he went downstairs to seek the man out.
The Weavers house was a three-story antebellum with two living areas, a dining room, library, and even a fucking billiards room where they kept all their weapons. It was unlike anyplace he’d ever lived in the past—especially his tiny childhood home mere blocks away from the beach in California—and he loved every inch of the place. Dane had poured his heart and soul into restoring old wood floors, banisters, and molding to its original gleaming condition. Nearly every room had a fresh coat of paint, new light fixtures, carpets, and windows. The only problem now as far as he could see was all of them remembering to actually clean the place.
Right now, the first floor was eerily quiet. Not a common occurrence with six of them living in the main house plus Grey and Cort living in the apartments over the garage. Add into it that Dane was still working on the place—normally, there were the usual sounds that came along with remodeling like drilling and hammering.
Now, the silence felt almost ominous.
At the bottom of the stairs, he started to turn toward the kitchen when Clay’s voice rang out.
“Calder, can you come into the dining room?”
His heart stopped in his chest, and his stomach immediately twisted into a tight knot. He’d been expecting this. It wasn’t like they could fire him from this gig. There was only one Water Weaver in the world, and he was it.
Well, they could kill him and wait for him to be reincarnated into a new body—preferably as someone who could get along with the Fire Weaver. But they wouldn’t take such drastic means, right? It would take over twenty years for the new Water Weaver to appear.
All that aside, the idea of letting down the men he saw as brothers sucked beyond words.
Straightening his shoulders and lifting his head, Calder kicked his unease as he walked across the hall. He paused in the open doorway, taking in the sight of Clay, Grey, and Lucien seated at the large table.
All three men had clearly showered, judging by their damp hair and clean change of clothes. However, Grey was the only one who still looked battered and worn like an old shoe. Removing the mind-control spell was draining, but it was likely even more draining being around the combative emotions shooting between him and Lucien.
Someone was moving in the kitchen, banging pots and running the water. The scent of roast beef flavored the air, and the oven door whined as it was opened and shut. The soft murmur of Wiley’s voice followed by Baer’s deep, warm laugh. Must be their night to cook.
From his spot at the head of the table, Clay pointed at the open chair next to Lucien. “Have a seat, please. We want to talk to both of you.”
“This feels awfully like an intervention,” Lucien muttered as he leaned back in his seat. He’d changed into faded jeans and a dark-red Henley. Black brows met over his long nose in a frown. “What the hell, Clay?”
“Yep, that’s what this is. An intervention. You two have been fighting each other for more than a month, and the constant bickering is driving everyone insane.” Clay crossed his arms, shooting a glare at each of them as Calder sat. Worry pricked Calder as he faced his friends—he and Lucien had been kind of a pain.
“Today, it was out of hand,” Grey added. He massaged his temple and forehead with one hand as if he were still fighting the lingering effects of his migraine. “You could have endangered everyone.” He placed both arms on the table as he scooted closer to it. “Lucien, you’re being self-centered and recklessly impulsive, not to mention you seem to have trouble following directions lately.”
“Tell me how you really feel, Grey.” Lucien’s lips stretched into a lazy sneer.
“I am.” He tapped his fingers on the wood table. “We’re all in a lot of danger, and we don’t need you flying by the seat of your pants. Hell, the other day, you completely disregarded what Clay told you to do. Then you set a damn building on fire.”